Mary of Magdala
Standing on a hill called The Skull, my heart is broken as I look up at Yeshua. His body hangs on a wooden cross, with nails in his outstretched arms and in his feet. The Jewish leaders have conspired against Him and convinced the governor Pilate to order his execution. How can this be happening? I have followed Yeshua for years and He is a man of love.
Before I met Him, I was a tortured woman, indwelt with seven demons who relentlessly caused destruction in my life. With the power of God, Yeshua spoke the word and all the demons left with a shriek, never to return. The freedom that I experience since that day is indescribable. I owe Him my life, so I am one of the women who travels with Him and his disciples. With my resources I help provide food and other necessities. I have listened to His teaching and watched dozens of miracles. Without a doubt, He is our long-awaited Messiah, the Son of God. He came to save us, but now He is dying. This all feels like a horrible nightmare.
Suddenly the sky turns black, even though is it noon. Darkness continues for three hours as we watch Yeshua suffer. We are powerless to help Him. He cries out in a loud voice, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?” A few minutes later he cries, “It is finished!” He bows his head and is gone. The earth shakes and I am in shock.
Joseph of Arimathea is given permission by Pilate to take down His body. Nicodemus brings a mixture of myrrh and aloes. Together they wrap his body in linen cloths with the spices and lay Him in a new tomb carved out of solid rock. I watch as they place him. A huge rock is rolled to close the opening. The tomb is sealed with a cord stretching across the stone and sealed at each end to the rock wall with wax bearing the official Roman seal. Soldiers stand guard.
Our Sabbath begins as the sun sets. We must observe it and rest, but I am determined as soon as Sabbath is over, I will return to finish the job the two men started, with spices, ointments and sweet-smelling herbs. It is the least I can do for my Yeshua.
Before light, I rise, grab the aromatic preparations and quickly walk to the tomb. Not that I slept much, as grief has a way of consuming our thoughts. When I arrive, the stone has been rolled away. I run back to tell Peter and John, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they laid Him!” They run to the tomb and see that Yeshua’s body is gone, but strangely the linen wrappings neatly lay where His body was, and the face cloth is rolled up and sits to the side.
I yearn to be near Yeshua so I stay near the tomb. Curious, I look inside and see two angels in white, sitting one at the head and one at the feet, where his body had lain. “Woman, why are you crying?” they ask me.
“Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him.”. Once again, grief overtakes me and I sob uncontrollably.
I turn and see a man who asks me, “Woman, why are you crying? For whom are you looking?”
I think it is the gardener so I answer, “Sir, if you are the one who carried Him away, tell me where you have put Him.” I just want to be near Him. Death is so ugly.
“Mary!” He speaks my name and deep in my heart I know Who this is.
Yeshua! He is here. He defeated death; He is alive! He has the victory. He is our Savior.
My biggest nightmare has become my most ecstatic day!
In His mercy, He chose to reveal Himself to me. It is more than I can comprehend.
His voice. My name. All is well.